The Emperor (40 page)

Fanny jumped up at once and clamoured. 'Oh yes, Papa, please! I want a puppy, I want a puppy. I want that one.’

James laughed. 'That's my contrary daughter! You can't
have this one, chick, it's the one your Mama has just
chosen.'

‘But I want it,' Fanny cried, her lower lip jutting. He hesitated, and the glow went out of Mary Ann's eyes, and James, looking at her questioningly a second later, never knew it had been there.

‘Well, of course, I meant it for Fanny,' she said. 'What would I do with a dog of my own?'

‘
Did you?' He was too pleased in pleasing Fanny to
wonder at his wife's change of position. 'There, then, Fan, it
shall be yours. Thank Mama nicely, chick. And what shall you call it, do you think?'

‘Puppy,' said Fanny.

‘That's not a name, that's what it is,' James laughed.

‘Let her call it Puppy if she wants,' Mary Ann said
indifferently, turning away. 'It's as good a name as any.
Nurse, I think it is time the children went in, don't you?’

Left alone, James continued to watch the tumbling
puppies, his expression thoughtful. He picked them up one by one and examined them, and determined which was the biggest and strongest, a very dark-brindled dog pup with a white mark on its breast. When he held it up before him, it
yawned and licked his face, and he smiled, returned it to the
litter, and went to find Edward.

*

Early the next morning Durban set out for Coxwold, driving
the cocking-cart, with the big dog-pup confined, rather unwillingly, in the compartment under the seat.

‘
Lady Strathord said to me in conversation one day,'
James had told him when he gave him his orders, 'that she
had thought to get herself a dog or adopt a child to keep her
company. Pray tell her that I can't do anything about the
child, but that I can at least provide her with the dog.’

Durban was received with great pleasure by Marie, who
had formed a very favourable opinion of him in the time
they had shared the house.

‘How is she?' Durban asking, cocking his head towards the parlour.

‘Very low,' Marie said. 'It is not her way to brood — my lady is as brave as a lion, and she never complains, never. But I often find her sitting, Monsieur Durban, just sitting, with her hands in her lap.'

‘
It's a bad business,' Durban said, shaking his head. 'I
don't know what anyone could have done different,
however. Have you found another housemaid yet?'

‘
That is another thing,' Marie sighed. 'Not that I mind the
work — I was used to work far harder, I assure you, when we lived in London, when Monsieur was alive. But it is not right
that my lady should be without servants.'

‘You cannot find anyone hereabouts?'

‘
Absolutely no. That Charlock has spoken out against my
lady, and the young women may not come here — as though
she were a
femme du monde
instead of next thing to an
angel!'

‘She must go to London, then,' Durban said wisely.

‘We shall go, quite soon,' Marie nodded, ‘to see Monsieur de Chelmsford about selling the jewels.'

‘And when she is there, she must find a housemaid in
London and bring her back. What she really needs,' he
added thoughtfully 'is a respectable older woman to live
with her, like a chaperone, to lend her countenance.’

Marie looked cross. 'Lend her countenance? What has
my lady need of anyone to do that for her!’

Durban said soothingly, 'I know that, mademoiselle, and you know it, but the simple folk of this village don't. And now, do you think your lady would see me? I have brought her a present.’

He went back to the cocking-cart and drew out the big pup by the neck. Marie's eyes grew wide.

‘Zut, alors!
Have we not trouble enough without that!’

Durban smiled. 'If she don't want it, mademoiselle, I'll
take it away again. But you might ask her. She expressed to
my master a wish to have a dog.'

‘But yes, a little dog, a lady's dog, not that monster! However, you shall ask her, as you have come so far.’

Durban was brought into Héloïse's presence, leading the
pup by the collar, and made a deferential bow. She was
sitting by the fire, a shawl round her shoulders, her head
bare, staring absently into the flames. Above her head, over
the chimney piece, was the portrait James had painted of
her during his brief residence, and Durban could not help
noticing the difference between the joyful expression of the
painted Héloïse, and that of the flesh-and-blood one.

‘Durban! How good of you to come. How do they all go on at Morland Place? Is my aunt well?'

‘
Yes, my lady, she is well. Things are a little more settled
now.'

‘And what is this you have brought me?’

Durban released the pup's collar, and while it was
dashing round Héloïse and pawing at her knees in an indiscriminate ecstasy of greeting, he gave his message. He
watched her face as he spoke, and saw no immediate
pleasure in the dog. She fended it from the fire and caressed
it, but absently, and when she had heard the message, she
winced, and gave an extraordinary smile, painful and ironic.

If you do not wish to have the trouble of the dog, my
lady, I can take it away again,' he offered when he had
finished. She said nothing for a while. The dog left her to course about the room, nose down, and she watched it with
unseeing eyes. Then at last she seemed to come to a decision
and he saw her gather herself together.

‘Does it have a name, Durban?'

‘No, my lady.'

‘
I can only think of French names, and that would not do
for a Morland dog. Do you know any Morland names for dogs?'

‘
Well, my lady, Kithra is a traditional name in the family,
and Fand, 'so I believe.'

‘Fand – I cannot say that! No, Kithra it shall be. I shall
keep the dog, gladly. Thank your master for me, if – if it can
be done discreetly. Now you shall take some refreshment after your journey. Please to go into the kitchen, and ask Marie to look after you.’

Durban bowed, and left her. As he turned to close the
door behind him, he saw that the dog had come back to the hearth, and was sitting in the warmth from the fire, looking
up at Héloïse curiously. She was staring at the flames again,
her hands folded in her lap, and her eyes were shining with tears in the flickering light.

*

The mild weather had kept many people in Town who
would otherwise have gone into the country, and the carriage-way in Hyde Park was unusually full during the hours of promenade. Many of the gentlemen strollers wore red coats, but otherwise there was little evidence of the war
which had been going on for nearly five years. Smart ladies
drove or were driven at snail's pace, gentlemen were taken
up for a circuit or two and put down again, carriages
blocked the way by stopping alongside each other for the occupants to exchange greetings and examine each other's
clothing with critical eyes. The fashionable went through the
necessary process of being seen, flirtations were carried on and assignations made.

Lady Aylesbury was there most days, dashing and conspicuous. Her horses were the envy of many a sporting gentleman, some of whom knew in their hearts that she
handled the reins a great deal better than they. 'Lady
Aylesbury's chestnuts' were as famous as Stantonbury's
greys, or Mildmay's bay geldings, and everyone knew the
name of her stony-faced groom, sure sign of her fame.
When she drove her curricle, Parslow sat beside her, only getting down when she took up a gentleman for a turn; and when she rode her dancing golden mare, Mimosa, Parslow rode behind at a discreet distance on a horse fine enough to have been a gentleman's hack.

Of Lord Aylesbury little was seen. He was an indolent
man, not much given to airings in the Park. He spent a good
deal of time at Wolvercote, and when he was in Town he
was usually either in bed, or at Whites or sauntering down
St James's Street. When the Aylesburys entertained at
home, he was in evidence, playing whist or leaning against
the chimney-piece deep in conversation with some Smart or
other, while his wife held court at the other end of the room.
He and my lady were known to be on polite terms, but led
separate lives. He lent countenance to her retinue of
admirers and laughed publicly at her flirts, and thus the
ton
knew that everything was in order.

Lucy rode, walked, drove, danced, shopped, chatted and entertained frantically, and thought she was happy, dismis
sing her strange feelings of restlessness merely as a sign that
she was not cramming enough of those activities into each day. The young officers of the 10th Dragoons, especially Wiske, Brummell, and Horatio Morland, were at the heart of her court, but she had to some extent taken over Flora's naval patronage, and such distinguished officers as were ashore were frequently to be found in her drawing-room,
charming her with stories of thrilling exploits, or themselves
with the unexpectedly technical discussions it was possible to have with her ladyship.

It was not in the least surprising that the up-and-coming Lieutenant Weston was almost always to be found at her
elbow, and if the
ton
noticed that he was more often silent
in her company those days, they cheerfully put it down as 'a
flirt' and forgot about it.

Weston brought her the earliest news of her family. It had been a good year for the navy: while the army seemed able to do nothing right, the navy could do nothing wrong,
and though England was left without an ally except Portugal
by the end of the year, the strength of the navy meant that the Directory's
Armée d'Angleterre,
which was gathering in northern France, was likely to remain there indefinitely.

The West India fleet had done well in the Caribbean
under Rear-Admiral Hannibal Harvey. In a combined
operation with the army under Sir Ralph Abercromby,
Trinidad and Puerto Rico had been captured, and Captain ‘Bloody Bill' Morland had been justified once again in his assertion that the West India station was the best for prize money.

In home waters, there had been another victory in
October, when Admiral Duncan's fleet had beaten a Dutch fleet of fifteen of the line off Camperdown. The
Africa
had
been in the engagement, and since eleven Dutch vessels had
struck their colours, Captain Haworth would a richer man
that winter. With the destruction of the Texel fleet, the
Africa
had been sent to reinforce Lord Bridport's block
ading squadron outside Brest.

Lucy had listened to the news with mixed feelings — pride
and envy, tempered by a sisterly concern for Mary's safety;
but no English ship had so much as lost a mast, and Weston was soon able to assure her that the Africa's losses had been
light.

‘There were fifteen wounded, mostly splinter wounds, and only three seriously. Seven dead, all seamen. No shots penetrated the hull. Most of the damage was on the main-deck, with shot ploughing along the deck.

Lucy nodded gravely, well able to imagine the injuries. 'I
wish I had been there,' she said wistfully. Weston raised an eyebrow.

‘Do you indeed? Why, Mr Proom, I rather thought you had become addicted to life on shore,' he teased gently. He often called her Mr Proom when they were alone together.

‘Don't you wish to be at sea, when things like this are
happening?' she asked curiously. 'If I were a man, I could
not bear to be idle.'

‘
How unkind! You think me idle — but you must see that
 
someone has to be at the Admiralty, making decisions. And
besides, if I were at sea, I couldn't be here talking to you, could I?’

Lucy felt breathless. Whenever he said anything directly
flirtatious she felt a mixture of excitement and panic.
Weston attracted her. She liked his company, enjoyed
talking to him, and was proud to be seen with someone so handsome and personable; but there was something else,
which troubled her. There was a hidden world, just under
the surface of the world she was accustomed to, and sometimes the membrane between the two seemed very thin -perilously so, she thought, for whatever was that dark knowledge, it was not only exciting, it was dangerous.

She looked at him now wide-eyed, apprehensive, very different from the dashing Lady Aylesbury known to the world of fashion. Weston's smile changed minutely. ‘You
wouldn't really like me to go away to sea, would you, Lucy?'
he asked. He was too close to her. She felt as though she could not draw her breath. 'Sure you would miss me?’